


Verge

by anonymousgratification



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 19:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18817051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousgratification/pseuds/anonymousgratification
Summary: A welcome interruption.





	Verge

**Author's Note:**

> I loathe myself for being so fixated on this pairing.

A knock on the door adjourns his sketching. Damian stands and opens it. The hallway is masked by Dick’s body, and he enters without so much as a response from Damian, shutting the door and placing a kiss on his cheek as he walks by. 

“Hey,” he says.

“Richard… I didn’t know you would be here.”

“Wasn’t planned. My services were requested.”

Damian tuts, his fingers going for his hair. “Services?”

Dick’s thumb settles on his throat, tracing the skin down to his collar. “Batman needed the assistance of his darling first partner.”

Twirling his hair, Damian smirks. “Why not his best partner?” 

“I thought that was me?”

“I didn’t say _he_ was _mine_.”

Dick rubs the material of his collar between his fingers “So I do still hold that title?” he asks, watching his fingers move over the blue fabric of his button up, absorbing the moment. Every second feels remarkable; each one worth cherishing.

He exhales, fingertips trailing down his neck. “I suppose…” 

Dick grins. “Hm…then I _suppose_ I could say the same.”

“What did he need your help with?” Damian asks. 

“Nothing important,” he mutters. Unsatisfied with the answer, Damian raises an eyebrow. “Repeat offender. I took him in last time. We were trying to predict his next move.”

Damian hums. He leans up and kisses him, mumbling against his lips, tilting away. “Boring.”

“Sorry I have nothing more interesting.” Dick’s eyes move around the room, then back to the green ones below him. “Am I interrupting?”

“Well, I _was_ doing something.”

“And now?” he asks, eyes on his lips. Damian’s response drifts away as their mouths align and connect. 

The bed dips as they fall in it together, Damian beneath Dick. The kiss becomes prurient, tongue and teeth, friction increasing between them. Eager hands run over clothed muscles. 

Dick’s mouth latches onto the skin of his neck, nibbling lightly, inspiring his scent, his taste. A strange sensation hits him, and his eyes move to the side of the bed. 

Damian’s cat is sitting on it, gray fur circled on the mattress, gray eyes watching them. 

“Alfred. He’s watching.”

Damian’s leg slithers down the side of his. There’s an idle sneer on his face. “Scared to ravish me in front of the cat?”

“Ravish?” Dick simpers. “Are those the plans?” he asks, against his mouth. A brief kiss turns into a dirty one, and Dick’s eyes open, flickering to the cat again. 

“He’s staring,” he says.

Damian clicks his tongue, slipping out from under him, lifting the cat from the opposite side of the bed and cradling him to his chest. He nuzzles him, and mumbles something into the fur. Dick doesn’t miss the small kiss he places on the top of his head before he opens the door and lets him out. It has his heart beating harder in his chest. 

Damian plants in front of him, and Dick straightens himself on the edge of the bed. Fingers trail down his waist, and Dick bites his lip, looking up to meet his eyes.

“Acceptable?” Damian scoffs. 

“What can I say?” He nudges his abdomen, placing a kiss over his shirt. “You’re my favorite—”

Damian cuts him off with a harsh yank on his hair. Dick’s cheek presses against him, squished as he’s forced to stare up. 

“ _Don’t_ finish that.”

Mischievous, Dick smiles, not heeding his warning. “Kitten?”

Damian pulls at his hair again, hard enough Dick huffs. “I could maim you for such a comment.”

Dick sits up, fingering at the buttons of his shirt. He teases the top one, playing with the collar again. “But you won’t.” He glimpses up to a glare. Sniggering, he continues. “Besides…. that sounds like something a kitten would do.”

Slowly, Dick’s fingers trace each button of his shirt, advancing to the place where it meets his pants.

“Who says I won’t?”

Dick smiles at him. “Me.” His shirt is creating too many layers between them, and Dick begins to leisurely unbutton it. “You look very nice,” he says, his eyes unable to stop themselves from staring at the curves of his body under fabric. “But…”

Damian finishes for him. “Better without?”

“Much,” he says, sucking his lip into his mouth. The shirt opens, and Dick’s hands wrap around his shoulders, pushing his attire lower and lower, gazing as it slinks to the floor. 

The skin before him he has seen hundreds of times, but each time his eyes travel over him, to memorize the patterns of scars, lighter skin over dark. His stare is adjacent to one he’d never forget— the jagged discoloration over his chest. It’s lessened from the years, and shrunk from his growth, but it lay there, as a reminder of a past mistake he’ll spend the rest of his life making up for. Letting his Robin down.

Dick will never allow him to hurt again. He’ll never allow anyone to harm him.

Dick traces the scar, as he does each time they touch, the sensation of the cicatrix seared onto his fingertips. Another part of him has memorized the feeling of the scar, his lips, and he kisses across the lesion. 

His palm pushes up against the growing protrusion in his pants, rubbing up until he meets his belt. A tiny gasp comes out of Damian as Dick intentionally sedates his movements. 

The belt falls to the floor with his shirt. Dick tugs him closer by the vacant loops, reaching for the button. He assists in removing them, and they add to the pile. 

A flush appears, surrounding Damian's cheekbones. The color is Dick’s favorite in the world. 

“Cute,” he whispers, caressing up bare, toned thighs. The fabric of his briefs meets his palm, and his fingers dig into the waistband. In a continuous, graceful motion, his underwear greets the rest of the clothes, and Damian is pulled on the bed, above him. 

Dick reclines against the headboard, laying Damian's back against his chest, placing him between his legs. 

Damian inflames at the position. “Why—” he starts, but Dick doesn’t allow him.

“Trust me, yeah?” Breath teases his ear. The answer is all it takes for Damian to relent, slackening over him. 

Dick’s fingers run down his body. Hands brushing the muscles of his arms, his chest, his abdomen. They skip what he knows Damian wants him to touch, instead reaching for his legs, spreading as he moves up the length of them. 

“What were you working on?” Dick asks. The ghost of his fingers travel over his cock, thick over his stomach. 

Damian clenches his jaw to stop the deprived sound in his throat. “I…” 

The words are lost upon him, as a gentle hand squeezes down his erection, twisting back up. “I was thinking about you, you know… Last night. This morning. While I was talking to Bruce.” He rubs under the head and moves back down. “You’re stuck in my head, gorgeous.”

“Is that a,” a gasp, “bad thing?”

“Not at all.” His other hand journeys up his chest, pinching at his nipples. Biting at his ear, he lowers his voice. “I love when you’re in my thoughts. Those are always the best ones.”

Damian scoffs, but he’s glad Dick can’t see his face. There’s a bit of a smile on it, a bit of a blush, too.

A harsh tug around his cock has Damian twitching, squirming back against Dick. Precum surges out of him.

“So _wet_ ,” Dick murmurs. A moan exists his mouth, one he couldn’t stop if he tried. 

He rubs over the accumulating wetness, again, then again, until Damian _whimpers_. Searching for something to anchor on, he bends his arm and twists his fingers in the sleeve of Dick’s shirt.

The stimulation has his entire body shuddering, every nerve scorching. Damian turns his head, grabbing for Dick’s hair, clumsy kissing him, piercing through his lips with his teeth. Trembling, his head subsides into his shoulder. He tries to grind back against him, to feel his cock, but all he receives is a slight bugle against his lower back, sequestered behind his jeans. He wants to feel Dick—undressed and desperate—like he is. 

Stern, Dick commands him, letting go of him to push his legs open further. “Keep your legs open.”

The tone of his voice foments a fresh wave of titillation, and the precum that comes with it. Goading, Dick adds, “can you do that for me?”

In the beginning stages of delirium, all Damian can do is shake his head over his shoulder. Torturously unhurried, Dick’s hands glide down his body, causing his head to spin. Damian represses the urge to close legs and rut up towards him, or lead Dick’s hand closer, or turn on his side and hump his leg; burly, and  _right there_.

One hand plants on his leg, the other stroking him with the same, agonizing, slow touch. Raw, avid noises keep escaping him, and the need inside coerces away the parts of his mind ashamed of the high, hopeless sounds. 

Almost there. He’s so close—Dick’s hand speeding up, his wrist shifting. Bliss threatens, stinging all over his body. His eyes clench shut, lips parting in the shape of Dick’s name. 

It stops. Ecstasy mocks him. A hand squeezes around the base of his cock. 

“Don’t cum yet,” Dick says. “I wanna look at you more. Wanna touch you more.”

Damian groans, eyes rolling back, tremors unable to stop. Cursing in his native tongue, he digs his hand into Dick’s jeans.

Dick moves the hand on his thigh to his balls, and massages them in rhythm with his fingers. He works him up a second time; gets him to the brink and suppresses him. 

“Fucking incredible,” Dick mumbles, gripping the base as Damian shakes and whines, forced back from rapture before he succumbs to it. “How long do you think you can hold it in?”

“I hate you,” Damian says behind gritted teeth, his voice negating any truth to the statement. 

Dick can feel him pulse around his fingers. He lets go, watching him twitch against his abdomen. Gently, he fondles his shaft, with a barely there touch of his fingers. 

“I hate you,” Damian repeats, a whine an undeniable component making up his words. “So much.” He’s miserable with how much stifled pleasure is coursing through his blood.

Fondly, Dick chuckles and pushes his index and middle finger between Damian’s teeth, the other ones pressing against his throat, right under his chin. Damian bites down, crying into them. 

His thumb rolls over his slit, wetter than before, dampness trickling out each time he’s rejected from what he’s yearning for. 

Dick’s hips grind against his back. He moans, his voice losing it’s edge as he rubs his fingers into Damian’s throat, tightening his hold. “ _Gorgeous_ ,” he sighs, slipping his fingers out of his mouth, placing them between his legs, teasing that special place. 

Dick lifts Damian and spins him around, his cock throbbing beneath his zipper at the sound it elicits. Damian’s back hits the bed, and instantly, his fingers dig into the sheets by his head. 

Dick lowers himself, thumbs kneading his inner thighs. He sucks the fingers—the ones that were Damian’s mouth—into his own, and groans in enthusiastic comprehension of where they last were, and where they’re about to be. 

A finger pushes up between him, in the rift of his body. The incursion is accepted, and Damian’s teeth bite into his lower lip, and Dick can’t help being covetous, leaning up to replace them with his own. 

Adding another finger, he curves them, and massages inside him, pressing up against the spot mirroring paradise. 

Damian’s whole body angles toward the sensation, spiraling around him. Dick separates his fingers and twists them, kissing and nipping, leaving bites down his chest and abdomen. He stops at his groin, eyes devouring his cock; swollen, framed by convulsing legs. 

He grabs his thighs, holding him as his mouth attaches to the flesh. He sucks on the skin down his inner thigh, leaving a cruel bite in the ridge between his leg and his groin. Damian shudders and his legs flex around his head, and Dick directs his mouth to the other thigh, marking him.

Damian’s fingers submerge in his hair, and slide back the strands. “I’m not… I’m not going to…” _beg_ , he tries to say, but can’t finish, squirming over the sheets, messing them up.

Eyebrow raising licentiously, Dick’s eyes glance up his body. Splotchy, red coloration on his skin, closed eyes, parted lips. “No?” 

Liking the challenge, Dick’s mouth goes straight for his cock, sucking him down as far as he can, rubbing his fingers inside him deeper. He slips his tongue under his foreskin, imbibing, circling over the sensitivity. 

Moving his head up and down again, Dick can feel the familiar throbbing of his cock, and the sweet taste of precum, and he pulls off, wrapping his fingers, _mean_ , around the base again. 

“I could touch you all day. Tease you for hours.”

Damian thinks it’s already been hours. He doesn’t remember what he was doing before this. He doesn’t know anything. Nothing but how bad he has to cum. 

Dick kisses his thigh again, rubs at his slit, fucks him with his fingers. “Look so good,” he mumbles, grunting. “Taste _so_ good.”

The praise has him tingling. Groaning, whimpering, moaning; Damian doesn’t know what sound comes out of him. What he does know, is the sound forms a word.

“Please.”

“Please, what, _kitten_?”

Broken, and breaking more and more each second, his words slur and malfunction. Half of them aren’t in English. “Please. I need… I can’t…”

“Can’t hold it in anymore?” Dick teases. He strokes him again, circling his tongue over the head of his cock. He stops.

“Richard… Please. I-I-” He writhes, tugging Dick’s head up by his hair, whimpering. “I _need_ to,” he says, cracked open and spilling the word _need_ like it wasn’t of his worst nightmares, for years. 

There’s no part of Dick that wants to say no, or even can, with the timbre of his voice, and the utterance. He sucks him down vigorously. Pressure builds in Damian's body, igniting over the mattress. 

Dick keeps his mouth slow, yanking, wrenching his orgasm from him. Damian tumbles toward his completion, tightening his hold around Dick’s hair, his whole body shaking.

There’s no other name for the sound he makes but a wail. Dick stares up to see his eyelashes wetting from the overstimulation.

Damian’s hips raise and his back arches. Pride and gratification wash over Dick. He can feel it all over his own body when Damian cums, his cock pulsating in his mouth, his fingers being sucked into him.

The sheer force of his climax is worth the prior distress. He trembles, legs around Dick’s head, muscles twitching, body rolling. Dick keeps moving his head, and his fingers, and Damian continues to cum, another spurt emerging on his tongue.

“Richard,” he sighs, in the midst, low like a whisper. Dick rubs his prostate a final time and Damian’s whole body jerks.

Dick’s throat shifts to swallow, removing his fingers from his body, suctioning his lips as he pulls off.  Damian deliquesces over the bed. 

Dick sits up, grabbing his thigh, feeling the slight tremor still there.  “Worth it?” he asks. 

Softly, Damian laughs, all dimples and teeth. Dick thinks he has to be blushing this time. He’s never wanted one person so violently, so impassioned. Damian makes him feel lost in a situation he’s been in numerous times, but the back of his head knows the reason.

_You’ve never loved any of them like this._

"I think I’m still having an orgasm,” he says, as an answer. Having the same idea, their hands extend for each others, and Dick lays beside him. 

“Good.”

The bulge in his jeans means nothing to moments like this. Damian flips onto his side, and Dick follows, and they lethargically kiss.

Damian licks into his mouth, tasting himself within it. It has his body—so sensitive, too soon— _reacting._ “You taste like me.”

Dick groans. Damian reaches down and fondles him through his jeans, and crawls over him. He straddles Dick’s hips, laying on him, kissing up his throat, to his mouth. He sucks on the warmth, the blood under the skin, and rubs himself back against Dick’s bulge.

Impatiently, Damian rips at Dick’s shirt. The desire for flesh against flesh is overwhelming. He kisses down to the hair above his groin that fades beneath his jeans. Damian groans, impatient, wanting to see and feel Dick’s cock without the layers, and having difficulty attaining his goal. He unbuttons his jeans with urgent hands, and yanks down the remaining apparel, Dick lifting his body to help. Damian tosses his clothing to where his are. 

He lies back down between Dick’s legs, moaning when he sees his cock. Ravenous for it, desperate to get his hands, his mouth around it— desperate to _feel_ it, Damian fists him, tongue peaking out to taste it. He grips him, sucking the head, his eyes flitting up to Dick’s. 

He wants to see his reactions, his face; Dick’s handsome contortions and his eyes; for him and no one else. 

He wants to take Dick apart like he does. 

He kisses and licks down the side of his cock, and back up the other. He kisses the tip and swallows him down as far as he can, then farther. Letting go, he inhales, his hands creeping up his abdomen, feeling every quiver, every gasp, as his head moves.

His name comes out of Dick’s mouth in the form of a grunt, and it sends electricity through him. 

Ardent, Damian pulls off, progressing up Dick’s body. Reaching behind him, he nudges his entrance with Dick’s cock, soaking up the moans he extracts. He lowers himself over his cock, his hands splaying over Dick’s chest. 

He circles his hips, pressing forward, then back. Hissing, Damian lifts himself, and claws at his chest, over and over, until rosy marks line the skin. 

Grinding, he lays himself over Dick, kissing at the streaks, apologizing. 

All the feral, insatiable desire Dick was repressing, he loses control of at Damian’s benevolence. He clasps his waist and sits up, taking Damian with him, thrusting savagely up into him. The fingers from his chest dig into his back, tearing at his shoulder blades and thew. 

Dick kisses him, unable to resist the sight. A rough drive of his hips has them both pulling away to breathe, forehead to forehead. Damian and him converge, moving together.

Embracing, they gasp into each other, and sink into each others flesh, and body, and whatever else either of them can get their hands on. 

Benediction tinges with pleasure, as he finishes inside, Dick’s hips digging into him, pushing in as deep as he can. He swears he cums harder than he ever has in his _life_ , with Damian. His whole body spasms. 

Damian cannot even speak. Oversensitive, his sounds are an orison, as he trembles and shouts a second time, staining the skin between them. 

Panting, he goes limp over Dick, and Dick rests his head against his neck and shoulder. Gradually, oxygen comes back, and the room around them. 

Dick's teeth meet his throat as he snickers. “So… What _were_ you working on?” 


End file.
